


In Memoriam of a Depression Haze

by Exorciststuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression and Learning to Cope, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, johndave zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorciststuck/pseuds/Exorciststuck
Summary: "He steeled himself, as mentally prepared to face whatever Dave had done and the inevitable clash that would follow as he could be when the door opened.By now, he thought to himself, he really shouldn’t be surprised by Dave’s romantic streak."





	In Memoriam of a Depression Haze

It was 9:00pm on a summer night, the sky dragging out twilight as long as it could, wringing out every last drop of liquid daylight until there was absolutely nothing left to give and the darkness was given its reign of the land. The nice thing about their new world was the lack of light pollution- the stars showed just a hint of their endlessness that way, which went perfectly with the hovering light that floated around their room, an invention Jade and Dirk had managed to alchemize for everyone. 

It glowed a warm gold, highlighting the piles of boxes stacked up in their living room well enough to see, the towering size of the cardboard casting heavy shadows on the walls. It was a daunting task to unpack them all, but every moment of heavy lifting came with a reminder- this was his new home, he was safe now, and he wasn’t alone. Overwhelming, comforting thoughts that settled in his chest like a warm gulp of hot cocoa. He felt a smile tugging on his lips, just in time for Dave to come out of the bedroom, (their bedroom!) and start rummaging through a box aptly labelled ‘daves shit.’

John stood behind him, a hand rubbing Dave’s shoulder. “Having fun decorating your half of the room?”

“Huh?” He tensed up for half a second, before relaxing, an easy grin on his face, “yeah, you’re really gonna love what I’ve done with the place, it’s so fucking hip and fashionable in there that the ghosts of property TV stars past descended from the sky and handed me the title of ‘best dude who put stuff in a room pretty fucking okay,’ so now _I’m_ the property brother.”

John paused in his own work of unpacking their kitchenware, holding a mug in each hand. “…So I’m going to hate it?” 

The exasperated sound Dave responded with practically vibrated the room. “Egbert, don’t give me that shit. We both know you’d be the type of guy to watch ten hour HGTV marathons and then try to DIY reno the kitchen.” 

John shrugged, before using a knife to slice open a box labelled ‘pots and pans’ “Not like it matters, TV doesn’t exist anymore.”

Dave mumbled something that John couldn’t hear in response, his voice cut off by the large box he’d hefted up obscuring his face. John laughed, and watched with apt attention as Dave stumbled his way back into the bedroom, only returning to work once he was out of sight.

Eventually, the silence in the background and the constant clinking of kitchenware became grating, prompting John to put on some music. He chose something soft, the volume just loud enough to muffle the harshness of metal and glass and porcelain bumping, but quiet enough that it didn’t overwhelm him. It aided him in his work, so that by the time Dave came back outside with the now empty box in his arms, John had almost entirely finished unpacking the kitchen. 

“Done already?” He put the plate he was holding onto the counter, a smile growing when Dave abandoned the box and walked towards him, hand reaching out to caress John’s cheek gently.

“You should come see it,” Dave was wordy before, sure and confident in whatever bullshit he was effortlessly spewing, but he was more withdrawn now, gentle and subdued in both his movements and his voice. John would assume exhaustion, but something else was clearly bubbling beneath the surface of their casual conversation, and he followed Dave to the bedroom apprehensively. 

“You know I have to live with whatever dumb bullshit you pulled too, right?”

Dave sighed, stopping outside the bedroom door. John’s apprehension bloomed into genuine nervousness, his eyes trained on the door. Had Dave busted a hole into the wall in his attempt to do something cool? Put down ugly wallpaper and realised halfway through that he’d made a mistake? _Covered the walls in porn?_

He steeled himself, as mentally prepared to face whatever Dave had done and the inevitable clash that would follow as he could be when the door opened. 

By now, he thought to himself, he really shouldn’t be surprised by Dave’s romantic streak. Still, he liked to sneak up on John with it, and the moment he stepped aside to let John see into their room was no different. Rather than the horror movie scene he’d been expecting, the room was decorated with picture frames- the natural and mature progression of posters, of course- of photos of the two of them.

“You…” He exhaled, barely catching the way Dave sagged in relief as he lit up, taking it all in. Altogether, there must have been around twenty photos decorating the room, although some were much smaller than others. Still, he knew Dave, and he knew he only used film and developed the photographs himself, and…

It didn’t take much more to realise how much time that Dave would have needed to take to not only pick his favourite photographs out of the tens of thousands he took, but to develop the photographs on whatever size paper he chose and do all that weird darkroom stuff he did to make sure the photos always looked as crisp and perfect as the moment they’d been taken. Like every time he was reminded, the unwavering dedication Dave applied to any task floored John, shaking him to his core even as he made his way across the room. Some of these photos he barely remembered Dave taking! Others looked like candids, and still others John assumed weren’t even taken by Dave. 

He paused, finger tracing the frame of the largest photo on the wall. “Hey, when did this photo get taken?” It was a bright day in the photograph, but that didn’t give John much information about the event itself- and the new universe was notoriously for it’s picturesque sunny skies either way. Whoever had taken the photo had stumbled upon an intimate moment though. They were both dressed to the nines, suits crisp and black, but also utterly soaked and standing knee deep in one of Earth C’s many lakes, laughing and holding onto each other. Even with his memory blanking, John could clearly see the joy and adoration painted on his own face, aimed right at Dave.

He didn’t know his face looked like that when he saw Dave, so soft and vulnerable. It’d look goofy and dumb, if not for the fact that there was clearly something deep beneath the surface of his broad smile. 

Dave stepped up behind him, casually pressing himself up against John’s back, his arms snaking around his waist, and a moment after John felt the weight of a chin on his shoulder, Dave’s voice in his ear sent shivers down his spine. “Three and a half years ago,” he said it so casually, and John wondered if he’d seen the time on the roll of film, or if he thought of the moment often enough that the date lingered in his mind. “I don’t even remember why we were dressed up real fancy, but Vantas shoved me in the lake and you jumped in afterwards because you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Am I?” John smiled, tipping his head back to bump Dave. “Anyway, what’s so special about this photo then? If it’s not even an important date…”

“It is though,” Dave hummed, running his hands down John’s sides, “don’t you remember the bonfire?”

If he was being honest, there were a lot of bonfires, and a lot of things in his past had melted together in a haze of sleepless nights and badly managed depression. He was doing better now, thanks to a healthy combination of alchemized drugs and semi-productive therapy-slash-tea-time sessions with Rose, but his blurry memories were unfixable because they’d never really been properly remembered in the first place. Dave understood well enough, and continued on when John didn’t answer. “You stayed with me after that the whole time, you know. For the first time since the whole fucking game, we were inseparable. It’s like something snapped, you’d had some fucking breakthrough epiphany when you saw me falling ass first into the frigid hellwaters of Lake Water or whatever dumbshit we called it back then, _and you wanted to spend time with me again._ It was fucking monumental John, I’d missed you so much,” he spoke the last words muffled into the fabric of John’s shirt, his hold tightening for a moment.

Looking back on it now, John could recognize that there was a distinct point in time where Dave had been present a lot more. Just, weirdly enough, the source of that shift was lost on him. As far as he’d thought about it, one day Dave had just appeared and he’d simply been thankful for the presence of his closest friend. Now though, Dave had helpfully provided the solution to a question he’d never bothered asking.

Still though, something bugged him, prompting John to grab onto his hand, still staring intently at the photograph “You know, I was definitely in love with you in this picture.”

“What?” He felt Dave freeze, “come on Egbert, that was ages before we hooked up.”

“So? You said you liked me when we were thirteen,” he couldn’t help but grin at that one, the knowledge of shitty little kid him capturing the affections of shitty little kid Dave forever a source of amusement. “Anyway, those,” he pointed at his own face, where it laughed and faced photo Dave, “are the eyes of a man in love.”

He turned to look at Dave, a laugh bubbling out of him at the way his boyfriend was squinting intently at the photo, like he was training his eyes to see something hidden between the lines. It was hopelessly endearing, and John sighed, maneuvering himself so he could press a kiss to his forehead. “I need to go finish unpacking the kitchen, you have fun trying to x-files out how long I was crushing on you ‘till I confessed.”

Dave stopped him, cupping his cheeks, “do you even know?”

John smiled at him, big and soft and vulnerable, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I have no idea. Maybe this whole time?”

His prankster’s gambit swelled, pleased with the surprise attack and the subtlety of it all. But mostly, he just felt warm all over. If this was going to be the rest of his life, that was more than okay.

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the [Johndave zine!](http://zinestuck.tumblr.com/post/164460977940/) I'm sososososo glad I got to be a part of this, everything looks amazing and this is one of those things that if you had told bushy eyed 14 yr old johndave fan me I'd be in, I'd have _freaked_. Hats off to you, you awful dumb child. 
> 
> The zine is free, so please check it out and see all the super great things everyone produced for it!


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